


Willful Ignorance

by kettish



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pretend Relationship, QuiObi week 2018, dumb masters are dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: For QuiObi Week 2018, Day 2: Pretend Relationship. Unbeta'd.





	Willful Ignorance

 

Padawans were forged like swords of ancient times, Qui-Gon thought whimsically as he watched Obi-Wan speak to one of the negotiating diplomat’s aids. He was good at that--people liked him, and wanted to talk to him, and he radiated friendliness like a hot stone radiated heat. Obi-Wan had been forged as an intitiate and junior padawan, annealed in his trials and ground and hardened in the training that came after each one. All that remained was to temper him, to set him into flexibility that retained his shape, and it was that which unsettled Qui-Gon. 

 

He grew attached so quickly! Qui-Gon knew he hadn’t discouraged it well, taking in strays as he did, but he’d hoped his pupil would learn to let go of attachments when they returned those strays to where they best belonged. But instead, he found Obi-Wan forming friendships, writing letters to people they hadn’t seen in more than a year and had only met once. He found him leaving food out for the stray tooka they’d discovered in the Temple gardens, rather than letting it fend for itself and reduce the rodent population as intended.  Attachments were his weakness, and Qui-Gon despaired of finding a way to break him of it.

 

Worst of all was the attachment Obi-Wan would not admit to--the crush he had on Qui-Gon himself. Qui-Gon had been flattered by the puppy-love his padawan had felt when he first caught wind of it, but he worried now that a year later his padawan still hadn’t moved completely past it. Obi-Wan needed to get over it once and for all and realize that this shallow affection would do nothing but hold him back.

 

It would make a good final test before he put him up for his Knighthood trials, Qui-Gon thought sadly. He didn’t want to let Obi-Wan go just yet, but he’d held off as long as he could; any longer and he would truly be failing his student and friend. This last test would sting, but Obi-Wan would see it for the training it was soon enough, would take direction as he always did (beautifully, if delayed sometimes by stubbornness), and be the great Knight he was meant to be.

 

Now. Who could he ask to help him…

  
  


“This is a terrible idea, Qui-Gon,” Tahl said in flat tones. “We stopped dating for a reason.”

 

“Yes, but this isn’t dating, it’s acting,” Qui-Gon reasoned. “He’s got to learn to let attachments go in a healthy way before he’s let out into the universe, or his years as a Knight are going to be so, so hard.”

 

Tahl sighed, sitting back against the sofa. When Qui-Gon had said he had a big favor to ask of her, she’d figured he’d found another flatbread recipe and wanted to try cooking again. It was always flatbread, because he’d tried cooking that first and failed and didn’t know how to give up, and still he always failed.

 

She hadn’t even dreamed he’d ask her to be in a pretend relationship, in order to make his padawan jealous, so he’d learn to let go of attachments. Supposedly. Tahl wasn’t certain but she’d wondered if maybe Obi-Wan’s affection for his teacher went deeper than Qui-Gon realized.

 

“And how is Obi-Wan supposed to react?” she asked instead of answering. Qui-Gon frowned thoughtfully and leaned back as well, hands on his thighs.

 

“He will be jealous at first,” Qui-Gon decided. “But he’s grown into his confidence well, and has always been compassionate--he will do his best to hide his jealousy. But he must be forced to confront it and move on, rather than hide it away until the day he can hope once more. If you do this, he will take it more seriously, and will be more likely to believe we have a long-term commitment to one another.”

 

“Sure he will,” she muttered. “That boy grew up to be just as stubborn as his master.” Qui-Gon heaved an aggravated sigh and tilted his head back, before righting himself and leaning forward.

 

“Yes or no, Tahl,” he said seriously. “I won’t argue you into it, but if you do this you need to do it fully, or he won’t believe it.”

 

“Fine,” Tahl groaned. “Fine. But don’t fuss at me when this has unexpected results, you understand?”

 

“It will go exactly as intended,” Qui-Gon argued, but his shoulders softened and he leaned into his thighs more as he relaxed.  “Thank you, my friend. I appreciate your help.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, game plan. Obi-Wan is more intelligent than you give him credit for when it comes to people.”

  
  
  


They started out subtle, perhaps in respect for Obi-Wan’s feelings, but it was clear enough to Obi-Wan what was happening. His Master began to buy Master Tahl’s favorite loose-leaf tea again, as he had years ago, and Master Tahl began coming over to drink it. They warmed to each other again in a way Obi-Wan hadn’t seen since they stopped dating six years previous, and their conversations began to have pauses for them to smile into each other’s eyes. 

 

It was terrible. 

 

But Qui-Gon seemed happy, and so did Master Tahl, and so he resolved to do everything he could to support them, and do nothing to keep them apart. They deserved every chance at happiness they could get, both of them. And they’d been happy before, when they weren’t in a tiff--though Obi-Wan wondered if they’d grown enough in six years to be compatible again.

 

Who knew? 

 

Obi-Wan rolled over to lay face-first on his bed in order to muffle a groan. The bottom line was, Obi-Wan was trying his absolute best to continue on as normal while the love of his life was seeing someone else regularly and right in front of him. He and Master Tahl had become friends, after all, and it would be rude to avoid her every time they came over. But it was a delicate balance between leaving too early and being rude or staying longer than necessary and hurting himself.

 

And if he walked in on Qui-Gon with his head ducked low, obviously about to kiss her, even one more time, he might have to ask for a seperate living assignment. It wasn’t traditional, but it was sometimes done. Surely the quartermaster would allow it, so long as Obi-Wan explained the situation.

 

He was happy for Qui-Gon. He was. Obi-Wan tried his best to keep reminding himself of it as he attempted to smother himself with the duvet.

  
  


“He’s not acting jealous at all,” Tahl pointed out helpfully to Qui-Gon as she sipped her tea at his side. Obi-Wan had politely bowed out of their company after spending a pleasant while chatting with them, claiming he had things to do in his room, and left them alone. Qui-Gon let out a heavy exhale before taking his arm back from around her and following suit. 

 

“There’s something there. I can feel it in the bond.” Tahl hummed.

 

“Maybe he’s recently grown out of it on his own?” she suggested after a moment. 

 

“I’m not sure. It wasn’t obvious to me before--I only knew what was happening when Mace mentioned it to me. Apparently Obi-Wan is very attentive to my form in the salles,” he admitted with a wry grin. Tahl grinned too and gently elbowed his side.

 

“Still got it,” she teased, and he chuckled as they went back to their tea before it could cool.

 

“I think we’ll have to try harder,” Qui-Gon decided after he’d finished his cup. Tahl gave him a disbelieving look. “I do. We’ll give it another week and one final big push, and if that doesn’t work we can be done. All right?”

 

“If you say so,” Tahl said, but her tone said otherwise. “What do you have in mind?”

 

“It’s a little juvenile,” Qui-Gon admitted, “but I think it will work.” She almost spat out her tea when he told her the plan.

  
  


It had been a long, long day, starting with creche breakfast duty early in the morning, continuing with a training session with the Battlemaster, through lunch and the afternoon with a research project in the library, and a four-hour guard shift that all senior padawans rotated through. It was now past dinner time, and past when he usually went to bed, and he was just tired.

 

His exhaustion was probably what allowed him to ignore the noises from Qui-Gon’s bedroom as he fixed himself a sandwich; in his overworked state, he just didn’t recognize it. He ate, staring at the wall, and was halfway through his food and a glass of water before it really sunk in what he was hearing.

 

Obscene noises. Obi-Wan blushed scarlet to the roots of his hair as he realized he was hearing Master Qui-Gon and Master Tahl have sex. Really good sex, too, it sounded like--Obi-Wan didn’t remember hearing anything like this last time they were dating, but maybe they’d had their assignations at Master Tahl’s quarters out of respect for his youth. His food soured in his stomach, and he swallowed against the nauseous feeling that brewed as he stood there in the kitchen. Even worse, the idea of Qui-Gon having sex right there was still arousing, and he felt himself begin to harden.

 

Then he snapped, and put his glass in the sink, his food in the recycler, and booked it to his bedroom as fast as he could without running. This was--this was more than he could be expected to handle! Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon had an idea of how Obi-Wan felt about him--he’d overheard he and Master Windu chatting about it once. It was hurtful that Qui-Gon would still choose to be that loud while Obi-Wan still lived in the same quarters, knowing that, and it hurt more because Obi-Wan knew perfectly well that Qui-Gon hadn’t forgotten.

 

He’d seen the looks Qui-Gon had been giving him, daring him to say something. Obi-Wan hadn’t, because he loved him, and also because  _ he wasn’t a complete arsehole _ . Apparently that hadn’t been enough. Obi-Wan had no idea what his master was thinking.

 

The noises from the other bedroom were faint from here, and Obi-Wan snarled in aggravation, yanking his pillow off his bed and covering his ears. Then there was blessed quiet, and dark when he turned the light out with a flick of the Force, and he went to sleep hurting, ignoring his erection and hoping the morning would bring answers.

 

“There’s the anger,” Qui-Gon said idly, leaning back against his headboard with his fingers laced and resting against his stomach. Tahl hummed agreement and turned the page on her datapad; she was reading about paper production throughout human history. “And now he’s asleep. Well, he finally showed some emotion, so I think we got to him after all. Mutually amicable break up?”

 

“Sounds good,” Tahl agreed. “Can we turn this off now? I keep cringing every time I see that one actresses’ fingernails.”

 

“I agree,” Qui-Gon said, reaching for the remote and powering down the holoscreen. “She really should have trimmed them. And those entry angles had me concerned for that one actor’s equipment.”

 

“They aren’t supposed to feel good, just look good,” Tahl said. “It’s a job.”

 

“Not one I would enjoy, I think,” Qui-Gon decided. “Thank you again for your help, Tahl. I owe you.”

 

“Send me tea,” she said immediately. “And Force’s sake, pick something better next time, Qui, I know you don’t watch drivel like that.” Qui-Gon laughed and watched her go from his position on the bed before getting up to take care of his evening ablutions. He and Obi-Wan could have a talk in the morning.

  
  


Qui-Gon entered the shared living areas bright and early the next morning as per his usual habit, and was surprised to see a very tired looking Obi-Wan already seated at the table, staring listlessly at a cup of tea. Obi-Wan’s head moved in his direction minutely before pausing and swinging back to his tea, and Qui-Gon frowned. This was not what he’d expected.

 

“Good morning,” Qui-Gon said, and went to the kitchen to make his own cup of tea. As he measured leaves into his mug, he heard Obi-Wan pad up behind him and lean against the cabinet a few feet away, and ignored him until he was ready to speak.

 

“Last night,” Obi-Wan finally said, and Qui-Gon finished putting away the jar of leaves. “I understand you’re--that you and Tahl are together.”

 

“Mmhm,” Qui-Gon replied, pulling down the honey and finding a spoon.

 

“But it was--it’s considered rude, to be so disruptive in shared quarters, Master. I understand you were both very--excited, but next time perhaps you can keep it down?” Qui-Gon frowned, turning towards him, but Obi-Wan wasn’t done.

 

“Or warn me, at least? I know you know how I feel about you, ever since that mission to Hurn-lir--I heard you and Master Windu discussing it six months ago. But I thought that you would...respect my feelings, at least, even if you don’t return them.” Obi-Wan sounded frustrated and upset, and a thread of hurt was growing in their bond. “But instead you’ve--you’ve flaunted your relationship at me, always looking as though you want me to complain, and then last night--I understand, Qui-Gon, I do, but this isn’t necessary. It’s just hurtful.”

 

Qui-Gon froze and felt the blood leave his face. Oh. Oh, no, this wasn’t what he’d intended.

 

“I want you to be happy,” Obi-Wan continued, earnest, not noticing Qui-Gon’s distress in his own upset. “I want you and Master Tahl to both be happy, and if that means together, that’s fine--all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. But I thought we were friends as well as master and student, and this isn’t how friends treat each other. Or roommates. Or anyone considerate. Just...please. Master.”

 

Obi-Wan turned, the threads of hurt twining with guilt and sadness and a tinge of bitterness in Qui-Gon’s head, and left his cup on the counter before returning to his bedroom. 

 

Qui-Gon stood shocked to stillness in the kitchen, feet rooted, and stared at Obi-Wan’s bedroom door as he tried to comprehend just how badly he’d misjudged.

  
  


Obi-Wan left quietly for the day a while later. Qui-Gon stayed where he was on his meditation pillow, the padding a concession to a well-used body that was beginning to complain. It was a secondary concern to how he had hurt his padawan, today, and Qui-Gon delved deeply into his subconsciousness to try and discover what had gone wrong and when.

 

It was true he’d known how Obi-Wan felt about him, obviously. It had been the hinge upon which his whole plan was fixed. He’d assumed, wrongfully, that Obi-Wan had gotten over it or moved on somewhat. Qui-Gon wasn’t sure, thinking about it now, when he’d decided that it must be so, but it was surely sometime in the last year. He remembered being glad of it after the last lightsaber competition, which was held at the end of each semester of schooling, and had only been six months ago.

 

It had been a joy, watching Obi-Wan dance and twist like flame made incarnate, flickering with fresh gusts of oxygen and roaring through his competition. He’d made it look easy, and Qui-Gon had been so proud. Something caught his attention there, at that exact moment of memory, and Qui-Gon paused to examine it further. 

 

Pride in his student, he expected and found, and a small amount of pride in himself for having taught him well. He saw a small but still-unseemly amount of gloating had been present in his thoughts as well, at how Obi-Wan dominated the competition, and at how he’d still looked good while doing so. His apprentice was--

 

A metaphorical blink of startlement, and Qui-Gon paused. Obi-Wan had looked good doing so. When had Qui-Gon cared on whit about how Obi-Wan looked during competitions or training, beyond the practical? But he had noticed and reveled in the way Obi-Wan’s musculature was more pronounced in his competition uniform than usual, and how the sweat had made it stick to his chest, and how his apprentice and friend’s eyes had been so happy and blue--

 

Qui-Gon groaned, releasing his meditation and withdrawing from the Force, and laid back against the floor in disbelieving despair. 

 

Ubelievable. Obi-Wan had never been jealous. Qui-Gon had been jealous, and refused to acknowledge it, had instead rationalized it so poorly that he’d hurt Obi-Wan in his willful ignorance. Qui-Gon threw an arm over his eyes, hiding from the world for a few seconds as he processed, and sighed. 

 

This changed things.

  
  


“You were right,” he told Tahl over the comm less than an hour later. To her credit, Tahl started off smug, but by the time he’d explained everything she was sympathetic, and gave him some much-needed advice. Mainly:

 

“Talk to him,” Tahl ordered, and that was a voice he knew he’d regret ignoring. 

 

“I will. Tonight,” Qui-Gon promised. He signed off, and went back down to his knees in order to prepare himself for the coming discussion. There was much still he needed to determine about himself before he could explain himself adequately.

  
  


That evening, when Obi-Wan arrived back home to their quarters, Qui-Gon was ready. He’d made a small dinner, something comforting, since they both could do with some comfort. This was due to be a difficult conversation, and Qui-Gon was not above creating buffers.

 

Qui-Gon had set their plates and mugs of evening tea at the low table in the living room, with cushions to sit on and the couch to lean back against, hoping a relaxed atmosphere would help them both forget for a time the constraints of the Master-apprentice relationship, and answer each other with honesty.

 

Obi-Wan looked at the meal, and tilted his head slightly, considering, before sighing and seating himself in the empty spot at Qui-Gon’s side. 

 

They ate for a minute in silence broken by the soft tink of their utensils against the sides of their bowls and the click of mugs being set back down on the table, and when Qui-Gon had gathered his courage he set his food down and picked up his mug, cradling it to his chest for warmth. Obi-Wan recognized the shift in mood and turned attentive eyes on him.

 

“I have some questions,” Qui-Gon began, “and an apology, and perhaps even an explanation. But I would ask we begin with the questions.”

 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, commenting silently on his use of the word “ask,” but nodded his assent. 

 

“What are your feelings for me?” Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan looked taken aback, former attitude erased, and he looked uneasy before his mouth firmed and he took a deep breath in.

 

“I love you,” Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon’s heart ached. “I have loved for you for around three years now.”

 

“And it’s a romantic love?” Qui-Gon asked, pressing, and Obi-Wan frowned. 

 

“Yes,” he replied slowly. “Master, what--”

 

“Qui-Gon for now, please,” Qui-Gon corrected him, “we’re speaking plainly about personal matters; don’t stand on formality. We can return to it later.” 

 

“As you wish. Qui-Gon, why are you asking me this? Last night was cruel enough,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon bowed his head, acknowledging his point, and was relieved when Obi-Wan seemed to take that as a comfort.

 

“Last night was a falsehood, Obi-Wan. It was the culmination of a test I have been putting you through for the last several weeks, thinking I was readying you for your Trials and Knighthood. I was wrong.”

 

Obi-Wan’s quick drawn breath gave away his shock. Qui-Gon seldom spoke of his Trials, preferring his student keep his focus on the here and now, rather than the eventual goal. To hear him mention it now, in this context, was a surprise.

 

“Why would you--how would that prepare me?” he asked. His tone was perplexed, but also hurt, and Qui-Gon needed to nip this branch of conversation in the bud before it veered off into territory he couldn’t speak of yet.

 

“I thought you were jealous of my attention, and that it spoke of Attachment,” Qui-Gon replied, “and so I enlisted Tahl’s help, asking her to help me help you, and we acted as though we were dating in order to incite enough jealousy or anger from you that you would recognize the problem and work through it on your own, or seek help in doing so.” He shook his head. “I was wrong, Obi-Wan. 

 

“I didn’t know the depth of your feelings for me,” he continued, settling back against the couch and staring down into his mug of tea, ruminating. “I didn’t think to ascertain them before, either, so sure was I--and that surety was born of willful ignorance of myself.”

“I love you dearly,” Obi-Wan said quietly, settling back beside him. “I saw you and Tahl, and you two were happy, and there was nothing I could do save encourage you both. So I did, and was very confused when you seemed upset by it.”

 

“I don’t deserve that kind of esteem,” Qui-Gon replied in equally soft tones, and then flinched when Obi-Wan unexpectedly pinched his thigh.

 

“I can finally say that nobody is allowed to talk about the man I love like that,” Obi-Wan said smartly, tucking his hands back around his mug in a serene posture. Qui-Gon stared down at him and couldn’t have stopped his next words if he’d tried.

 

“May I kiss you, Obi-Wan?”

 

Obi-Wan froze, then turned to look at him fully. Careful investigation apparently revealed insufficient evidence, and he was left to ask.

 

“Why?” 

 

Looking down, Qui-Gon studied his student’s vulnerable eyes, the determined set to his jaw.

 

“Over the years,” he began, “I have forgotten what it is like to be loved so. Tahl and I--I suspect we were always better suited as friends, and were simply trying to make it work for the companionship, rather than any real romantic attraction. And it was a long time before Tahl that anyone else was close to loving me.

 

“I have forgotten too what it is like to love,” he confessed. “As I meditated today, trying to find out how I had miscalculated and hurt you so badly, I discovered feelings I had ignored because I had no idea what to do with them. I didn’t recognize the happiness that my loved one was happy, or the pride in their accomplishments, or even the satisfaction that they were closely tied to only me.” Obi-Wan looked both pained and painfully hopeful at his words, beginning to see where Qui-Gon was going, and it was a titanic effort for Qui-Gon to open his mouth and continue.

 

“Somehow, I thought my jealousy was yours, and that my attachment was yours also. And it is my duty as your teacher to guide you away from such things, and so I tried--but as Tahl and I sat here and looked lovingly at each other and held hands I didn’t see jealousy from you, only acceptance, and it hurt me without my understanding why.”

 

“You…” Obi-Wan began, and then stopped himself, uncertain. But Qui-Gon nodded.

 

“I love you, Obi-Wan. And I’m a sorry man that I couldn’t see it, and hurt you rather than recognize it in myself.”

 

The room was silent save the sound of their breathing, all outside noise muted by the thick walls and windows. Qui-Gon waited, tense, and refused to dispel his anxiety--he deserved to feel this, all of it, for everything he’d done to this man. So it startled him when he felt Obi-Wan’s hand on his arm and made him look up from his hands.

 

“What do you want now, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan asked in the gentlest voice Qui-Gon had ever heard from him. How had he missed this? It echoed back in his memory to every time Qui-Gon had been injured or struggled with depression and grief. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it down so that he could answer, meeting honesty and bravery with the same.

 

“I would very much like to see where a relationship might take us,” he said.

 

Obi-Wan smiled, beamed like morning sun, and said, “Yes.”

 

Qui-Gon raised both eyebrows, confused. Obi-Wan’s smile grew even brighter and a teasing spark entered his eyes, and he scooted over a few inches so that they were pressed together from shoulder to thigh.

 

“Yes, Qui-Gon, you may kiss me,” he clarified, and when Qui-Gon did, leaned in and met dry lips and soft breath, when he felt warmth in his chest and where Obi-Wan reached over to hold his hand, when that much-desired kiss was finally formed--it tasted like a promise. 

 

They parted, both lit with joy and the first full rush of acknowledged and returned love, and then Obi-Wan took up his mug once more and cradled it, leaning in against Qui-Gon’s side like he belonged there.

 

“I would very much like to see where we might go, too,” he said, very much pleased.


End file.
